


I Was Dreaming While I Drove

by Selenay



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cars, Humor, M/M, Mechanic Clint, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson's new mechanic is amazing: he knows cars, he looks great in coveralls, and he doesn't question Phil's odd cover stories.</p>
<p>Phil just can't work out whether Clint Barton is really flirting with him or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Was Dreaming While I Drove

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to Fahre for doing a terrific beta job and pointing out my car clangers without laughing too loudly at me. She also threw "I Drove All Night" at me when I was panicking over my lack of title.
> 
> The Harem is a group on Twitter. We throw plot bunnies at each other and enable each other into writing stuff. On this occasion, the gauntlet of "Write a mechanic AU" was thrown down. I know *nothing* about cars so I expected to end up with a really short, 2k fic. And then the usual happened. Thanks, guys.

The first thing Phil noticed as he drove his car into the auto shop was that the man leaning over a silver BMW was definitely not Ray. Not that Phil had spent much time checking out Ray's ass over the years, but he would definitely have noticed if Ray's ass had looked like _that_.

Phil put his car in park, turned off the engine (which gave a rattling moan as it died), and tried not to feel disappointed when the man with the ass straightened up and turned around to look at him. After all, Phil was here to get his car fixed. Not to admire the scenery.

There wasn't anything to feel disappointed about, he discovered a moment later. The man who definitely wasn't Ray was compactly muscled, covered in engine grease, and had incredible blue eyes. His oil-stained t-shirt and the coveralls tied at his waist did nothing to disguise his body and Phil wondered vaguely when his mechanic had morphed from a skinny guy in his late sixties into _this_.

The mechanic sauntered over to Phil's car and Phil realised that he'd possibly been sitting and staring for just slightly too long. He pulled the key from the ignition and climbed out of the car, just in time to receive a flirty grin that left him slightly shell-shocked for a moment.

"Hi," the mechanic said.

"You're not Ray," Phil said and then cringed inwardly.

The smile widened. "Spotted that, huh? Yeah, I'm still waiting on the new sign. Ray sold the place to me last month, said something about retiring to Rio while he was still young enough to appreciate the local attractions. If you know what I mean."

A saucy wink just as Phil was starting to regain some of his higher processing powers sent his thoughts scattering again. Phil blinked. "Oh. I was looking for Ray."

"I promise, I know as much about cars as he did." The mechanic scrubbed a hand on his coveralls, which didn't do anything except shift the grease around a little. He stuck his hand out anyway and said, "Clint Barton, your new car whisperer. Unless you're so attached to Ray that you decide to follow him, but that's going to get real expensive very fast."

Phil took his hand and shook it, feeling the calluses on his fingers and for once not even caring about the mess on his hands from the oil. "Phil Coulson."

Clint's eyes lit up. "Right! Ray mentioned you might be in soon."

"A bit sooner than planned," Phil said, getting his mind firmly back onto business. "It made a funny noise when it started this morning and it keeps dying when I try to pull away."

"A funny noise?" Clint asked with a raised eyebrow. "Can you be more specific?"

Phil shrugged. "Just...odd."

"Why don't you start her up and I'll see how she sounds?" Clint asked.

"I'll try," Phil said cautiously because he wasn't sure whether the car would start this time. It had been a bit reluctant when he'd been trying to restart and pull away at the last set of lights. "I can't guarantee anything."

Clint nodded. "If she doesn't start, that's somewhere for me to start looking."

The car did start when Phil got in and turned the key, but it made the weird noise after a few seconds and even Phil could hear that the engine didn't sound right. There was an expression of careful concentration on Clint's face as he listened for a couple of minutes before signalling for Phil to shut the engine off. The car made that rattling noise again and Phil winced. It sounded expensive whatever it was.

"Can you fix it?" he asked as he got out of the car.

"Of course I can," Clint said, sounding almost insulted.

There was a smear of something black and shiny on Clint's cheek and Phil got distracted watching it and then noticing the lines that crinkled beside his eyes when he smiled. Whatever Clint was explaining about the car and its engine flew straight over Phil's head. He caught a few words - mostly references to shafts, which probably wasn't what he was supposed to focus on - but most of what Clint said was a pleasant blur until he stopped speaking and waited.

After a moment, Phil realised that Clint might have asked a question or, at least, said something that needed a response. 

He searched through his mental repertoire of appropriate noncommittal phrases and said, "That sounds fine."

Judging by the snort of laughter, it probably wasn't quite the right response. Clint's eyes danced with humour and Phil shrugged.

"Ray wasn't exaggerating," Clint said. "You really aren't a car guy."

"As long as my car gets me where I need to be, I don't need to know how or why," Phil said mildly.

"Don't worry, sir, I can get her running properly again for you," Clint said. "Leave her with me and she'll be a happy lady again by the evening."

"So fast?" Phil asked.

Clint nodded and patted the car's hood fondly. "Not a problem. Do you need a lift anywhere?"

"I work a couple of blocks away so I can walk." Phil must have imagined the hint of disappointment in Clint's eyes. "I'll be back after work, if that's alright?"

"That's fine. Perfect."

Phil tried to think of something witty, or at least not weird, to say but his mind came up blank. So he waved a quick goodbye and left the auto shop before he could say anything foolish instead.

The warm spring air and morning sunshine had to be the main reason he felt so cheerful, maybe even slightly bouncy, as he walked to his office. By the time he reached his desk, though, his mind was firmly on his latest case with all thoughts of attractive, flirty mechanics buried under the implications of the lab reports that had come in overnight.

Whatever the gang his team had been investigating was up to, it definitely wasn't as simple as supplying coke to some neighbourhood punks. It was going to be a long day.

***

Phil's mind was still firmly on his work when he walked into the auto shop just before six. He still had at least another couple of hours of work to do, but he figured that mechanics probably didn't work the kind of crazy hours that government agents did so he should pick up the car at a reasonable time.

There was no sign of Clint bent over any of the cars waiting in the shop and Phil was too distracted by the work he'd left behind to feel disappointed about that. His car was sitting slightly away from the other three and the key had been set on the dash. There was no sign of a note or bill inside so Phil hesitated for a moment.

The quiet sound of a door closing to his left made Phil look up, in time to see Clint jog across the shop with a wide grin. Clint looked just as grease-smeared as he had in the morning but when he ran a hand through his hair, Phil noted that the skin on his fingers was clean and golden brown this time.

"Hi, sorry," Clint said as he stopped by the car. "Ray warned me you usually came in around this time but I was trying to get some paperwork done. Didn't hear you come in."

Phil gave him a small, tired smile. "That's fine. I know what paperwork can be like."

The assessing look Clint gave him made something tighten in Phil's belly even though there was nothing in Clint's expression other than understanding.

"Paperwork's a bitch," Clint agreed. "Anyway, she's all ready to go. Sounds good as new. Need me to run through what I did?"

Phil was tempted to say yes, even though there was no chance he'd understand it, just so he could spend a couple of minutes watching Clint explain everything. It would be a nice balm to the rotten day he'd had that had begun with those lab results and just got worse. Except he couldn't really afford the time, there was a debriefing he needed to attend in a few minutes, and every minute he spent here was a minute when he could be getting the largest coffee the shop next to his office sold.

He shook his head regretfully. "I really have to get back to work."

There was just a hint of a pout on Clint's face. "That's a real shame. It's too nice of an evening to be shut inside an office."

"I don't have much choice tonight, I'm afraid," Phil said. "Do you have a bill for me?"

Clint reached into a pocket in his coveralls and produced a piece of surprisingly clean paper. "Just drop a cheque in whenever. Or mail it if you're really pushed. Ray promised you're always good about that."

"I'll get something in the mail as soon as I get home tonight," Phil promised.

Or tomorrow, he mentally amended, because there was a good chance today's clusterfuck would turn into an all-nighter.

"Great." Clint grinned. "I'd say 'hope to see you soon', except I don't think you want to be bringing her back here too often."

"Uh, no, I don't," Phil said, trying not to sound disappointed about that. "Thank you for getting it back on the road so quickly."

"No problem, boss. Always glad to help one of Ray's most reliable customers."

Phil nodded and climbed into the car. As promised, the car started smoothly and there were no weird noises when he gunned the engine a little to check it. Clint grinned and gave him a wave that was almost a salute before turning to jog back to the little office on the other side of the shop. If Phil waited until he disappeared, quietly appreciating the way his ass flexed as he moved, that was nothing Clint would ever have to know about.

After all, it wasn't as though Phil would need to see him any time soon. He'd usually only seen Ray two or three times a year after all.

***

Two weeks later, Phil drove under the new sign for Hawkeye's Auto with smoke pouring out from under the hood. He might not know much about cars, but he was fairly sure that smoke was a very bad sign.

The soft wheeze that his car gave as he turned off the ignition was probably not good either.

Phil climbed out of the car and waved smoke away from his face, trying not to cough on the acrid fumes. There was only one other car in the shop this morning and Clint had probably been leaning over the engine if Phil had been able to see him through the smoke as he arrived. Unfortunately Clint was upright and leaning casually against the door by the time Phil had moved far enough away from his car to make out more than dark outlines.

Not that Clint didn't look good in his dirty coverall and grease-streaked white t-shirt, but Phil was a little disappointed anyway.

There was a cheerful smirk on Clint's face. "I guess you just couldn't stay away."

Phil sighed. "This wasn't really my idea."

"What happened?"

"I don't know." Actually, Phil could guess exactly what had happened but it wasn't really practical to explain that an invasion of tiny mutant squids at work had required someone to dismantle and rebuild half the cars in the agency parking lot this week and they'd probably been so busy they'd missed something. Apart from anything else, Clint didn't have the clearance level to know about it. Hell, Phil barely had the security clearance and the junior agent whose car had eventually been encased in concrete and dropped five miles out to sea would probably never know why he'd been given a shiny new Acura. "It just...caught on fire. Slightly."

Clint regarded the car, which wasn't smoking anymore but was still surrounded by a hazy cloud. "Huh. That's new."

"Do you need me to start it so you can hear the engine?" Phil asked warily.

"Nah, I got a pretty good picture when you drove in," Clint said. "I can look her over and give you a call when I know how long this will take, if that's OK?"

"So you can fix it?"

"Uh, let me get back to you when I've had a look under the hood." Clint frowned. "Was she smoking the whole way here?"

"Only the last three blocks. Up until that it was just making odd noises."

Clint's smile was just on the polite smile of flirtatious. "I guess there's no point asking what kind of odd, is there?"

"Probably not," Phil admitted.

"OK, boss, get yourself to work and I'll call later. Ray's got your number somewhere, right?"

"He has."

"Then you go and do...whatever it is you do," Clint said, "and leave her in my hands."

***

His cell phone rang around midmorning and Phil had to hunt under papers and reports to find the tiny black thing. He almost knocked over his coffee cup during the hunt and he called himself ten kinds of idiot for putting his phone down on the desk instead of leaving it in his pocket. It had seemed like a good idea when he arrived, having it there on the desk in case Clint called, but then the usual had happened and it got buried. One day he'd learn.

Phil thumbed the phone on and said hello. There was a brief pause on the other end, as though Clint hadn't expected him to answer. It had rung several times before Phil found it but he didn't think it had been ringing for _that_ long.

"Mister Coulson?" Clint said eventually.

His voice was warm, even though the tinny speaker, and Phil definitely, absolutely did not smile when he heard it.

"Speaking," he said. "And it's Phil. 'Mister Coulson' sounds much too formal."

There was another pause before Clint chuckled. "Right. Phil. Hi."

"Hello."

"OK, so this is going to sound a bit strange," Clint said slowly, "but...is there any chance your car got some work done at another shop? A really bad shop?"

Phil winced a little. "It's possible."

"I feel hurt and betrayed, I really do," Clint said, but there was just a hint of laughter in his voice to tell Phil he wasn't actually upset. "Taking her to see another man, one who just didn't know how to care for her right. You're lucky I'm a forgiving sort of guy."

"What did the...ah...other shop do?" Phil asked.

"Here's the weird thing. They got confused. Somehow, they managed to put parts from two other cars in her engine."

"That doesn't sound good."

Clint laughed. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it. It's why she's been smoking, boss. Your baby girl doesn't like getting other car's shafts in the wrong places."

"My car sounds like a sensible lady," Phil said.

"She's a girl who knows what she needs. And what she needs isn't some Chevy's bits in her intakes. You should probably make sure you thoroughly vet any other guys she might see, make sure they know what they're doing before you let them get intimate with her."

Phil wasn't entirely certain, but he was starting think this might be flirting. The strangest flirting he'd ever engaged in, definitely, but Clint's tone and the way his voice deepened on certain words strongly hinted that this wasn't just a conversation about his car.

Except he knew nothing about cars and engines so he wasn't sure how to flirt back.

Instead he asked, "Can you help her?"

"Sure I can," Clint said easily. "She'll need some TLC, probably a couple of days with me, but I'll have her running better than ever."

"Thank you," Phil said.

There was an awkward pause. Phil had no idea how a call like this, one that was equal parts business and flirting, was supposed to end. Was there some kind of code he should use?

Just as the silence was starting to get uncomfortable and Phil was starting to consider pretending to drop his phone in his coffee, Clint coughed and said, "You could drop by tonight to check on her. Make sure she's in safe hands, that kind of shit."

"I could?" Phil asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"Sure you could," Clint said with lazy ease. "Can't promise she'll look pretty for you, but she'll be here waiting."

"I'll see how my day goes," Phil said hesitantly. "You know how it can be."

"I know."

"But I'll try," Phil found himself promising before he quickly pressed the end call button.

Then he stared at his phone for a long moment, playing back the conversation in his head and trying to work out what it meant.

He suspected it meant that he was terrible at flirting. Or possibly that he had an overactive imagination.

Phil put the phone away and squashed any urge he might have to order a few car manuals for research.

***

Considering how his days usually ended up going, Phil was a little surprised to be walking into Clint's shop just after five that evening. It was another beautiful spring day, bright and sunny and just warm enough to leave his heavy coat slung over his arm for the two block walk.

There was a radio playing in the corner of the auto shop and Phil could hear someone humming along quietly. The voice was warm and surprisingly melodious but Phil couldn't immediately see where it was coming from. Then he spotted a pair of legs protruding from under a red van, one foot tapping to the beat. He wasn't an expert yet, but Phil thought he recognised Clint's heavy, scuffed work boots.

Something clanged quietly under the van and the humming broke off, replaced by muffled swearing. Phil winced because it sounded painful. He was trying to decide whether to let Clint know he was there when Clint rolled out from under the van, still cursing viciously and pressing a hand to his forehead. Their eyes met and Clint froze for a moment before plastering on a bright smile.

"Hi!" Clint raised his free hand and gave a small wave. "Sorry about that. I don't usually drop tools on my head and swear at customers. Didn't know you were there."

Phil didn't quite manage to suppress a smile. "I'm a SH...ah, government worker. Listening to bad language comes with the job."

"I can believe that."

"It sounded painful," Phil said reassuringly. "I probably would have done the same."

Clint snorted. "Yeah, somehow I don't think so."

"Really?"

"You look more like the type to give the monkey wrench a death glare - a cold, dignified, calm one - and then put it on time out on the work bench." Clint's eyes danced with laughter. "Then you'd go out and do something incredibly lethal on your shooting range - I assume your very secret, possibly three letter agency government office has a shooting range? - before sitting down with a cup of tea. All done very politely so you don't terrifying the lower level 'government workers'."

Clint didn't need to put air quotes around 'government workers', his tone did that perfectly. Phil considered him carefully. The mechanic was more insightful than Phil had expected.

"I usually prefer coffee," Phil said after a moment's pause to consider his options. "And of course we don't have a shooting range in a government filing office. That would be silly."

"Uh huh. I like that you think I'll believe you." Clint grinned and cautiously lifted his hand from his forehead. There was a streak of dried blood and more blood oozed slowly down his forehead as Phil watched. "Shit. I should probably get something on this before I show you to your baby girl."

"Can I help at all?" Phil asked.

"Give me a hand up?"

Clint kept one hand firmly pressed to the cut on his hairline and held out the other. It was oil covered and grimy, but Phil grabbed it anyway and helped Clint to his feet. He'd somehow managed to forget how warm and strong Clint's hand was and he was almost certain he wasn't imagining that Clint held on a little longer than necessary.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" Phil asked when Clint dropped his hand with a bad pretence at casualness.

Clint nodded and moved toward the bench where the radio was still blaring. "Give me a minute and I'll be fine."

There was a cloth on the bench that he threw to Phil. It wasn't the cleanest cloth in the world, but it took the worst of the oil off Phil's palm. Clint turned down the volume of the radio and pulled a large green box off a shelf. Phil resisted the temptation to go over and help because it was a small wound and Clint didn't seem like the type who'd appreciate someone fussing over them, particularly a virtual stranger. As it gave Phil the chance to quietly watch him, resisting the urge to help wasn't difficult. Today Clint was actually wearing his blue coveralls properly, not hanging down around his waist, but he'd left the front open so Phil could see the muscles flexing under his tight, mostly white t-shirt. It was a nice diversion and Phil had to remind himself after a minute that watching Clint wasn't why he was here.

Absolutely not.

He was here for his car.

It was probably a good thing nobody was likely to want to polygraph him on that lie because Phil was fairly sure he wouldn't pass.

He waited patiently as Clint cleaned and bandaged his cut, trying to pretend he couldn't see the occasional glances Clint was shooting in his direction. It was a little flattering that Clint felt the need to check on him so often. Clint was neat and efficient, taking the time to put everything away properly when he'd finished, and Phil silently approved of his thoroughness.

"Ready to see your girl?" Clint asked with a crooked half grin. "She's not pretty, I warn you. I've had to strip her down pretty thoroughly to make sure I've caught all the foreign parts."

"I'm ready," Phil said.

Clint lead the way to a screened off area in one corner. "I'm not going to ask who's been working on her, figure I probably don't want to know. But she's had a rough couple of days so you should probably keep her away from whoever was messing with her in the future."

Behind the screen, Phil's car sat in partially dismantled glory. Parts littered the floor. At first Phil thought they'd been set down haphazardly, until he looked closer and saw that some bits looked like they might fit together with neighbouring ones. There was an empty space in the car where there should be an engine and Phil noted absently that the wheels were stacked neatly against the wall. Clint hopped across the mess, grabbed a bag and returned to Phil's side.

"Thought these might be useful," he said.

Phil took the bag. It clinked when he shook it and he raised a curious eyebrow.

The white strip of band-aid on Clint's forehead added a mischievous look to his face when he grinned. "The rogue parts from your car. I can't even work out why anyone thought some of those would work. It's a miracle she didn't start smoking earlier."

"I thought the engine sounded odd," Phil said weakly.

Clint snorted. "Boss, I'm amazed she started at all."

"It took a couple of tries."

"I can imagine. Although, it's probably a good thing you got her here instead of leaving her with the cowboys who did this. They probably would have tried to jury-rig a turboprop in there."

"I'm pretty sure they wouldn't."

One of Clint's eyebrows rose. "You're confident about that?"

Phil paused for a bit, allowing himself a small smile. "Not really."

"Thought as much." Clint laughed and gestured to the car. "Don't worry, she looks worse than she is. I'm waiting on a few parts so it's going to be a couple of days, but she'll be running perfectly when I'm done with her."

"Thanks."

"Are you OK to get home?" Clint asked.

Phil nodded. "I've got a friend from work picking me up in a few minutes. If you need to close up, I can wait outside."

"I've got another couple of hours before I finish up here," Clint said lightly. "You can keep me company until your ride arrives, if you want."

Given a choice between waiting outside in the bright spring sunshine or standing inside a draughty auto shop, Phil usually would have picked outside. It was the choice that any sensible, responsible adult would make. Instead he found himself leaning against a semi-clean workbench, accepting a bottle of water from Clint and not regretting the decision at all. Clint grinned at him before chugging half his water while Phil sipped more slowly and tried not to watch the muscles in Clint's throat work as he drank.

"I'm never going to know what happened, am I?" Clint asked.

There was a droplet of water on Clint's lower lip and it glinted in the sunlight from a window as he spoke.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Phil said solemnly.

"Ray warned me that you might sometimes turn up with weird shit," Clint said. "I see what he meant now."

Phil took a careful sip of water. "How did you get to know Ray?"

"You mean, how did I talk Ray into selling to me?" Clint asked and Phil shrugged. "I used to get into a lot of trouble when I was a kid. Running away from homes, stealing, that kind of shit. Even ran away to the circus once, which lasted about as long as you'd think it would before social dragged me back to a new foster family. Then I moved up to stealing cars."

"Let me guess, you tried to steal Ray's old Corvette?" Phil said, chuckling.

Clint winced. "And I fucked up the entire ignition because I couldn't hot-wire the thing. He caught me with the wires in my hands and I was sure this was it, I was finally going to juvie forever."

"But he didn't turn you in?" 

Phil knew the answer, Clint was standing beside him after all, but he was curious to hear the whole story. He'd run the usual background checks when he learned Ray had sold up and then he'd only glanced at the results long enough to confirm that Clint wasn't on a SHIELD watch-list before burying the folder at the bottom of a drawer.

"He didn't turn me in," Clint confirmed. "He told me I had two choices: the cops or fix the car. I picked fixing the car and ended up working here after school all the way through my senior year."

"That sounds like Ray," Phil said with a smile. "Always giving people second chances."

"Think he gave me more than a few second chances." Clint nodded to the shop. "I did a few really stupid things even after he started teaching me."

"Kids do that."

"Yeah, they do." For a moment Clint stared at his water bottle intently before giving Phil another of his bright smiles. "Anyway, Ray couldn't afford to take me on full-time after I graduated, but he promised me first refusal on the shop when he eventually retired and here we are."

"Here we are," Phil echoed.

He might have said something else, he didn't know what, but he was interrupted by the sound of a car's horn outside.

"That's my ride," he said.

Clint nodded. "I should get back to work. Thanks for the company."

"It was a pleasure." Phil tried to think of something else to say that wouldn't sound either weird or silly, but he came up blank. "Thanks for the water."

"Not a problem." Clint grinned. "I'll call you when she's ready to go home."

"That would be great."

It wasn't the most original goodbye, but Phil decided it was less creepy than saying "I'll be waiting" or "I'm looking forward to it" so he left it at that and hurried out into the sunshine. Sitwell barely gave Phil time to fasten his seatbelt when he got into the car, muttering something about tacos as they slid into the rush hour traffic. It wasn't until they pulled up at a taco bar that Phil realised he'd been in the auto shop for over an hour without noticing the time go by.

***

The next few days of Phil's life were consumed with the aftermath of the tiny mutant squid epidemic. He spent large portions of his day in the labs with the scientists discussing building security upgrades and mutant squid life cycles. The creators of the things had to be traced and apprehended. The paperwork for charging them with something the courts would believe had to be filled out.

There were three dozen compensation forms to read and sign off on for car repairs and, for one particularly unlucky agent, a new car plus medical expenses. 

A memo went out to the auto maintenance department promising to garnish their wages to recover the expenses if a mess like this ever happened again and the unlucky agent received more flowers in his hospital room than he knew what to do with. His family concluded that the government were darlings and didn't think to question why all four wheels might suddenly fly off a car and send it careening into a bakery store front.

Phil quietly dropped his little bag of parts into a dumpster behind the building. He had no intention of wasting a day trying to return each item to its original owner.

Clint called midway through a particularly painful afternoon, just as Phil finally sat down for the first time all day with a cup of coffee and a report that had nothing to do with squids or cars. Phil set the coffee aside as soon as he saw the caller ID and told himself that he was answering immediately because it important to get his car back as soon as possible.

He was very good at lying to himself sometimes.

"Hey boss," Clint said cheerfully. "Want the good news or the bad news?"

Phil sighed quietly. "The bad news, I guess."

"You're going to get soaked walking over here later. There's a storm coming in."

"Does that mean my car is ready?" Phil asked quickly.

"It means your car is ready," Clint confirmed. "You can pick her up any time."

"I'll be over before you close," Phil said.

"I'd offer to leave her outside the shop with the key on the wheel if you can't get here in time," Clint said, "but I don't think you'd go for it."

"You'd be right," Phil admitted. "It's not a good neighbourhood to be doing that in."

"Try telling that to some of my clients."

"They probably try to blame you when their car gets stolen?"

Clint's quiet chuckle sounded irritated rather than humorous. "Their insurance company stopped sniffling around when I told them the client insisted and I'd warned them."

"If I'm not there before you need to close up, don't wait for me," Phil said firmly.

"Oh I won't, boss," Clint said. "It's going to be a shitty night so I'm not planning to hang around any longer than I have to."

"You've got somewhere better to be?"

"Somewhere drier, yeah."

Phil wondered for a moment what Clint would look like soaked to the skin, coveralls clinging to his body and water running down his face and neck. Then he decided that having fantasies about Clint while they were talking on the phone was probably a really bad idea, not to mention potentially creepy.

There was an awkward pause. Phil tried desperately to think of something to say that would sound normal and squashed the urge, again, to read some car manuals.

"I'd better let you get back to work," Clint said eventually.

Phil looked at the reports strewn across his desk and the half-dozen emails, all flagged urgent, that had arrived in his inbox while they talked. "If I'm going to pick up my car tonight, that would probably be a good idea."

"I'll see you later then."

"See you later."

He hit the end call button before he could say anything weird like "I'm looking forward to it" or "It's a date" because that was definitely not the right thing to say to his mechanic. Even if he was looking forward to seeing Clint again.

His coffee was lukewarm but Phil gulped it down anyway and settled in for some intensive report reading and email writing.

***

Phil borrowed an umbrella but he was still as wet as Clint had predicted by the time he'd made the two block walk to the auto shop. The only part of him that wasn't soaked was his head above the nose line. The strong wind was blowing the rain vertically and upward and even a good umbrella couldn't keep a body dry in that kind of weather.

Walking into the shop to see Clint deep in discussion with a man in an expensive suit was disappointing to say the least. Phil dripped quietly in the doorway while he tried to decide what to do.

The man Clint was talking to had his back to Phil, but the cut of his suit showed that he was decently muscled and he had the tousled, fashionable type of hair that looked good no matter what it did. Phil thought about his own thinning hair and tried not to sigh. The guy probably had a beautiful face and an extensive knowledge of cars as well.

There was a burst of laughter and it was a good thing Phil didn't have a silly crush on his mechanic because otherwise he might have been jealous of the way Clint's client leaned forward and put a hand on Clint's shoulder to steady himself as he giggled. Thankfully there was no crush because Phil wasn't twelve so he wasn't jealous. Obviously.

Clint smiled at his client and didn't shake off the hand on his shoulder, but something must have attracted his attention because he suddenly looked over at Phil. His smile widened and he mouthed 'hello'. The man clinging to his shoulder didn't seem to notice Clint's distraction because he carried on telling a story that was apparently so killingly funny he couldn't stand up properly.

Phil had seen his car parked outside the shop, looking cleaner than he remembered it being for years despite the rain. He gestured to it with his umbrella.

Clint rolled his eyes at his oblivious client and then nodded to the workbench near Phil, where an invoice had been placed with a set of keys holding it down. Phil tried not to feel disappointed that this was all the interaction he'd get, the exchange of shrugs and smiles. It was probably a good thing because he was clearly bad at flirting and any flirting that Clint did had to be habit and not a conscious thing. Clint probably did it with all his customers, even the ones who brought in cars with unusual problems.

Maybe especially the ones who brought in cars with unusual problems. Those probably added interest to his day so he flirted as a thank you.

Phil picked up the keys and invoice and waved them briefly at Clint, who shrugged helplessly and mouthed 'sorry'. It shouldn't have made Phil feel better, but it did. He nodded and gave Clint a small smile before venturing out into the rain again.

The smile lasted most of the way through the drive home even though he normally would have been grumpy about his upholstery getting wet and the seat being at the wrong angle.

***

Three weeks later, Phil drove under the Hawkeye Auto sign and tried to feel a little bit sorry about being forced to see Clint again so soon. The problem with trying to feel bad about being back again was that Clint was practically lying across an engine when Phil arrived and feeling bad wasn't an option in the face of that view. Not when Clint's coverall was stretched tight over his ass and he wiggled it a little to reach further into the depths of the car just as Phil turned off the engine.

Phil spent a couple of minutes happily appreciating the scenery before remembering that he should probably stop acting like a stalker and get out of the car. Clint didn't quite jump when Phil shut the door, but his head lifted suddenly and Phil heard a quiet clank as he dropped something.

Clint looked over his shoulder and the combination of the position and the bright smile he sent made something warm stir in Phil's belly. Phil leaned against his car while he waited for Clint to untangle himself from the engine he was working on and retrieve the tool he'd dropped.

It was an unseasonably warm day for mid spring and Clint wiped his forehead off on his sleeve as he approached. "Didn't think I'd see you again for a while."

Phil shrugged, trying not to look at the sweat glistening on Clint's neck. "I think there's a leak."

He saw Clint's eyes go to the trail of drips behind the car and one of Clint's eyebrows rose. "You may be right."

"Sorry," Phil added.

Clint snorted. "You're the first person who's ever apologised for bringing me business."

"You worked so hard to fix her the last time," Phil said apologetically.

"Just tell me one thing," Clint said. "Did she cheat on me with another mechanic?"

"Definitely not," Phil said confidently.

In fact, the entire reason he was here in the middle of the morning was because he didn't trust SHIELD's mechanics with anything more complex than a golf cart but he couldn't tell Clint _that_. Nameless government filing departments didn't have their own mechanics and telling Clint about them would only confirm what Clint had already guessed about his job.

"Then you've got nothing to apologise for," Clint said reassuringly.

Phil kind of doubted that, given what he suspected about the leak's cause, but he nodded and watched Clint lope across the shop to fetch a creeper. Clint lay down on it and rolled under the car and for a couple of minutes all Phil could see was muscular, canvas-clad legs that shifted and flexed as Clint worked.

Then Clint scooted out and looked up at Phil with a frown. "Is there any chance our girl drove through something corrosive in the last day or two?"

"There's a chance, yes," Phil admitted slowly.

"While you were working in a government filing office."

"We get some odd filing requests."

Clint smirked. "It's like you're not even trying, boss."

"I promise, I'll give you a better cover story next time," Phil said, fighting a smile.

"Aw, you care after all."

It was probably a good thing that Clint disappeared under the car again because Phil had no idea how to respond to that. He had a strong suspicion that he was doing an impression of a startled fish, which wasn't really the image he wanted to project. Not that he wanted to impress Clint, but this whole flirting/not flirting thing was starting to get very confusing and didn't want to look ridiculous.

Phil wondered whether everyone else in the world found this kind of thing confusing or whether it was just him. It was probably just him.

Clint's expression when he re-emerged was somewhere between curious and amused. "You've got holes in a couple of lines. That's where the leaks are coming from."

"OK."

"Whatever you drove through was pretty strong," Clint continued.

It had been some kind of highly corrosive saliva that a dragon-like creature from somewhere Phil couldn't pronounce had been spitting everywhere. They'd had to call in help from Thor to contain and then transport the poor thing back to its home realm after it burned through two SHIELD trucks and every kind of restraint R and D could provide. Phil hadn't realised he'd driven through a puddle of the stuff until his tires started smoking.

He'd been forced to trust SHIELD's mechanics for long enough to change the tires and wash every inch of the car down. Then he'd signed it out and brought it straight to Clint.

"You'd be amazed at what really determined clerks will do to protect their records from other departments," Phil said and he tried not to feel pleased when Clint smiled up at him.

"I'm going to call in a buddy to take a look at the bodywork," Clint said, making no move to stand up. "It's not really my area and I wouldn't want you to drive her away and have her floor fall out under you."

"I can see that might be a problem."

"It means I won't be able to get her back to you today."

Phil shrugged. "I would have been surprised if you could."

"Want me to call you when I know what the full story is?"

"That would be great." Phil winced a little at himself. "Thank you."

Clint smiled, his eyes crinkling and dancing with laughter. It was a good smile, a little crooked but genuine and happy. Phil couldn't help going back to his memory of the rainy afternoon in the shop a few weeks ago. The smile Clint had given his handsy customer hadn't looked like this, filled with mischief and fun, it had been something lesser.

Something professional and cool that didn't invite anyone to share the joke. Not that it had worked, his customer didn't seem like the type to read smiles, but Phil had seen the same kind of smile dozens of times over the years. He'd seen it in the mirror a few times when he'd practised it.

A phone rang somewhere in the shop. Phil hoped it wasn't too obvious he'd been startled although the wicked curve to Clint's lips told him that he'd been noticed.

"I should get back to work," he said awkwardly.

"And I should call my buddy," Clint said as he sat up and wrapped an arm around one knee. "See if he can get in to look at our girl this week."

"Thank you."

"At least you're never boring, boss," Clint said.

"Most people don't see me that way," Phil said.

Clint waved a hand at Phil's car. "Then they've never seen your undercarriage."

Phil was still trying to figure out a response to that when Clint made a shooing gesture and scooted under the car again.

***

There was a message on Phil's voice mail when he got out of a meeting two days later.

"Hi Phil. Our girl is all fixed again," Clint said. "Come by and pick her up whenever you're ready, I'll be working 'til late tonight."

The message was short and some of the warmth in Clint's voice had been lost in the recording. Phil absolutely did not replay the message three times before he erased it.

He only had time to play it twice before Sitwell caught him and Phil tried not to look as flustered as he felt while Sitwell laughed at him.

***

Phil's last meeting of the day ran long so it was dusk by the time he finally emerged from the SHIELD building. Sitwell had given him an amused grin when Phil had declined a ride home and declared his intention to see whether he could pick up his car. After all, Clint's message had clearly said that he would probably be around later than normal so he might still be there.

There was always the option of a cab and an embarrassed message to Sitwell for a ride in the morning if he couldn't get his car.

It was still unseasonably warm and the streets were busy despite the encroaching darkness. The two block walk would normally have been pleasant but Phil was hot and tired when he got to the auto shop. He'd given in and taken off his jacket and coat, draping them over an arm to carry, and he'd even loosened his tie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt. The alley that led down to the auto shop's yard and main entrance was quiet and might have been spooky if Phil didn't deal with things a lot scarier than muggers on a day to day basis.

The wide door the shop had been pulled down to within a couple of feet of the ground, signalling that Clint wasn't expecting customers, but there was a strip of golden light and Phil could hear the radio. He only hesitated a moment before pulling the door up just enough to duck under it and then letting it fall again.

The shop seemed to be empty, or at least Clint wasn't stretched out over or under any cars, and Phil frowned. He'd seen his car in the yard on the way in but the keys weren't sitting on the workbench with an invoice the way they had been last time. There was a sporty red car in the middle of the floor with its hood up and a box of tools next to it, which at least showed that Clint had been working in here recently.

"Clint?" Phil called out. "Are you still working?"

"In here!" came Clint's voice from somewhere to Phil's left.

A door stood slightly ajar and Phil remembered that Clint had an office there, it was where Clint had been the first time Phil had picked up his car. He told himself firmly that he hadn't been worrying as he walked to the door and nudged it open to look inside.

Clint was sitting with his feet up on a messy desk. He'd pulled his coveralls down around his waist again, probably due to the heat, and the sleeveless t-shirt he wore had a long black streak of grease down the chest. The t-shirt was probably a size too small and Phil couldn't stop himself taking a good long look at the muscles and skin it showed off. He let his eyes drift down, across Clint's flat stomach and down his legs, drinking it all in before remembering where he was and forcing his attention back to Clint's face.

There was a definitely smirk on Clint's lips.

"Hi," Clint said.

Phil swallowed, only realising then how dry his throat was, and felt grateful that his voice sounded steady when he said, "Good evening."

"You got my message then," Clint said.

"I wasn't sure how late was late."

Clint shrugged. "It's not normally this late, but I've got a customer in a hurry and his sob story sounded real so. Here I am."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Sob story?"

"The story of why he needed his car working by ten tomorrow morning or his entire life is ruined or something." Clint's tone was light but his expression wasn't mocking. "I'm a soft touch sometimes."

"Having empathy isn't a bad thing," Phil said.

"It is when you're trying to run a business and not end up working every hour you can find."

"Nobody's missing you tonight?" Phil asked.

It was probably the least subtle attempt to find out a guy's status anyone had ever made and Phil was almost ashamed of himself for being so obvious. Apparently his secret spy skills only kicked in when he was on the job. On his own time, trying to work out whether a guy was flirting with him just for kicks or with some kind of real intent? Phil felt like he was drowning.

Clint didn't seem to mind. He grinned and gestured to a pizza box on a low filing cabinet next to him.

"I've got nobody to miss me," he confirmed. "Unless you count Enrique, the mouse that keeps nibbling his way into my cupboards. Want some pizza? I didn't feel like sharing with Enrique tonight, greedy little bastard."

Phil could smell the tomato sauce and cheese from the box and he felt like he _should_ say no, just take his car and go home to his left-over Chinese. Except the scent made his stomach growl and Clint chuckled quietly as he lifted the box flap and let more of the enticing smell waft out.

"Go on, you know you want to," Clint said seductively. "You can't pretend you're not hungry, boss, I just heard the proof."

"Maybe just one slice," Phil allowed.

Clint grinned and shifted his feet over, kicking a patch of the desk clear for Phil to sit on. Phil put his coat and jacket on a hook on the wall next to another one that held a battered leather jacket. The cheese on the pizza was stringy and gooey and it made Phil's hands messy the moment he picked up his slice. Dirty hands seemed to be a theme of most of his interactions with Clint.

He sat down on the edge of the desk and felt Clint's leg nudge against his hip as Clint reached over for another slice of his own. Clint didn't seem to mind the mess: he cheerfully tipped his head back to let the cheese strings drop in his mouth before taking a large bite.

The pizza was a lot better than Phil expected and his surprise must have shown on his face because Clint grinned at him and swallowed quickly.

"Ray always knew the best pizza places," Clint said. "He ordered from this one all the time."

There was a smudge of tomato sauce at the corner of his mouth and for a moment Phil was distracted by that and by wondering how Clint would taste if he leaned over to lick the sauce away.

This flirting with the mechanic thing was getting out of hand, Phil told himself, and he firmly directed his attention away from any thoughts of lips or licking.

"Ray had a directory of all the local food places," Phil said. "He used to give them stars in a little notebook he carried around and then he'd hand out recommendations based on how much he liked you and how that tied to his star system. I wonder what happened to it?"

"It came with the shop," Clint said. "I found it on top of the invoice book the first day I opened up."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm planning to eat my way through it at some stage."

Phil couldn't decide whether that was an invitation or whether Clint was just being a good guy and letting him know the notebook was safe. It could go either way and Clint's expression didn't give him any guidance. There was silence for a while as they ate, a quiet that Phil told himself was companionable and not hopeful, and then his single slice of pizza was gone and he'd run out of excuses to stay.

He grabbed a napkin from a pile by the takeout box and wiped off his hands and mouth.

"I should probably make a move," he said.

Clint sighed regretfully. "And I'd better get back to work."

"Thanks for the pizza."

"Anytime," Clint said lightly. He dropped his feet to the floor and reached into a drawer, pulling out an invoice and a set of keys. "Guess you'll be needing these, then."

Phil shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I can hot-wire a car without destroying the ignition, but the keys are easier."

"Funny," Clint drawled. "You're a funny guy, Phil."

"I try not to be," Phil said as he stood up. "It ruins my reputation."

"Badass and funny," Clint said. "My favourite combination."

Phil felt his face heat because he was fairly sure this time that Clint was intentionally flirting with him. He just wasn't sure whether it was something he was supposed to join in with.

Clint held out the keys but he snatched them back as Phil reached for them. "Are you going to treat our girl better this time?"

"I'll do my best," Phil said, "but I can't promise anything."

"Have you considered a company car?"

"There's never anything available in the motor pool when I need one," Phil said.

"The motor pool." Clint raised an eyebrow. "For all that dangerous filing you do?"

"Exactly."

Clint sighed and held out the keys. "OK, I guess your best will have to do. I'll walk you out."

Their footsteps echoed as they walked across the shop. The sound of the Clint rolling up the door seemed shockingly loud and Phil was surprised to find that it was completely dark and there was even a cool breeze when he stepped outside.

"Thanks again for the pizza," he said.

"You can take some with you, if you'd like," Clint offered.

Phil shook his head. "I wouldn't want to deprive Enrique of his midnight feast."

Clint snorted. "Enrique's smart, but I'm switching to kill traps if he figures out how to get in my fridge."

Phil chuckled and said good night. Clint was still leaning against his doorjamb when Phil drove away, the light from the shop silhouetting his body so Phil couldn't see his expression.

***

Two weeks later Phil drove under the Hawkeye Auto Shop sign and stopped the car just inside the door. It was still early but Clint was already at work, leaning over a car's engine with his back to the outside world. The position gave Phil a perfect view of Clint's ass, which he took full advantage of for a moment before reminding himself that it wasn't polite to stare.

Clint looked over his shoulder when Phil turned off his engine and a bright smile spread over Clint's face when their eyes met. It made the air catch in Phil's throat and for a moment he forgot what he was doing or where he was. A man was smiling at him as though he was genuinely happy to see Phil and that made his heart beat a little faster.

Phil had to take a deep, careful breath and remind himself that he was an experienced government agent, not a love-struck teenager. That helped him to rein the smile back so by the time Clint had straightened up and sauntered across the floor, Phil could get out of the car without embarrassing himself.

Or at least without looking foolish. He suspected anything more dignified went out of the window about an hour ago.

It was a cool morning for late spring and Clint, for once, had fastened his coveralls almost completely except for the top couple of snaps. The fabric stretched a little tight across his muscular arms and chest but Phil missed the way his t-shirts usually clung and emphasised everything. Clint put his hands in his pockets and raised an eyebrow.

"I thought we agreed you'd treat our girl right this time?" he said with a lazy smile.

Phil shrugged. "I promise, this time I didn't do anything."

"Really?"

"Really. She's squeaking."

Clint cocked his head. "Squeaking?"

"Squeaking," Phil confirmed.

"The nice thing about you, Phil, is the depth you go into when you're telling me what's wrong with her," Clint said.

"I don't know much about cars."

"You shock me," Clint said dryly.

"I know about a lot of things," Phil said, "but when it comes to cars, I know they have wheels and go boom loudly if you shoot them in the right place."

Clint laughed, bright and happy. It was a good laugh, one that filled the workshop and invited everyone to share his amusement.

"Do you need to shoot cars a lot when you're filing things?" Clint asked, amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"You'd be amazed."

"Just promise you'll never shoot our girl."

Phil held up a hand and allowed a smile to twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I won't. Scout's honour."

"You were never a Boy Scout," Clint said dubiously.

"I got my orienteering badge and everything," Phil admitted with a shrug.

"But you never did the car maintenance badge."

Phil chuckled. "Now I know you weren't a Boy Scout, there wasn't a badge for it until well after I'd left."

The look on Clint's face said that he didn't know whether to trust Phil or not, but then he snorted and grinned.

"Shit, should have known you'd have the history of merit badges filed away in your brain somewhere," he said. "Bet you've got a ton of weird trivia stored in your head."

"Some of it's even come in handy once or twice," Phil agreed.

"Like knowing where to shoot a car to blow it up?" Clint asked.

Phil shrugged. "Sometimes I have to go to extraordinary lengths to maintain my filing system."

Clint laughed again and Phil decided he could have happily listened to Clint laugh all day if there hadn't been work to do. There was also the small matter where hanging around an auto shop to hear his mechanic laugh might be classed as creepy. It was still a nice thought, one that Phil had to push firmly away so he didn't do something really crazy like ask Clint if he could stay for the day and watch him fix the car.

"So, she's squeaking," Clint said with a grin. "Any action in particular, or just constantly?"

"During gear changes, mostly," Phil said.

"OK, well that's somewhere for me to start." Clint patted the car fondly. "Don't worry, I'll have her purring normally in no time. You go and file some stuff or whatever you really do."

"You still refuse to believe I'm a filing clerk?" Phil asked.

The long, intense look Clint gave him, surveying his body from his shoes up to his hair, brought heat to Phil's face that he vainly hoped wasn't a sign he was blushing.

"I'm going with no," Clint said with a wink. "Definitely no. But you can carry on pretending if you'd like, it's kind of fun."

Phil couldn't quite figure out what he was supposed to say to that so he settled for rolling his eyes and saying goodbye before walking quickly out of the shop. Clint was still watching him when Phil glanced back, leaning against Phil's car with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused grin on his lips. It should have been annoying, but Phil found it oddly flattering that Clint was watching him and he had to resist the temptation to wave.

Then he walked briskly to the office and buried himself in work so he wouldn't have to see Sitwell and hear him laugh when Phil admitted he'd had to take the car to the shop again.

***

Phil's cell rang while he was walking to a meeting. It was his personal cell and normally he would have ignored it, but he juggled his armful of files so he could fish it out of a pocket because the only person who was likely to be calling was Clint. He was right and the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth couldn't be controlled.

"Hello?" he said when he answered it.

"Hi boss," came Clint's cheerful greeting. "Good news, our girl is going to be OK."

"You found the problem? That was quick." Phil's files nearly slid to the floor when he tried to check his watch and he had to make a grab for them and then for the phone as it tried to slide out from between his ear and his shoulder. "Sorry about that."

"I'm going to assume all that thumping and crackling was just normal operations in an archive and not you falling down the stairs or battling some kind of acid spitting monster."

"I nearly dropped some files," Phil admitted.

"Definitely acid spotting monsters, then."

Phil rolled his eyes and pushed through a set of double doors. "Believe what you want, I do actually have eight folders of reports in my arms at this moment."

"It's a sad day when you're reduced to cuddling folders."

"Holding, not cuddling." The double-take Phil got from a passing junior agent made him wonder what new rumour was going to be circulating the lunchroom later. "There's a difference."

Clint made a quiet disbelieving sound. "OK, I trust you. Anyway, point is, your girl is ready to be picked up whenever you're free."

"What was wrong?"

"The clutch needed lubricating."

Phil paused a few feet from his meeting room. "Really? That's all it was?"

There was a quiet snicker on the other end of the line. "Really. And there isn't any comment I can add that won't sound filthy, so just trust me on this."

Sitwell shouldered past Phil, took one look at his face and mouthed "your mechanic?" at him. Phil rolled his eyes and Sitwell laughed as he went into the meeting room and pointedly closed the door behind him to give Phil the illusion of privacy.

"I'll trust you," Phil said. "This would be a bad moment for a lube joke anyway."

There was a slight pause and then Clint laughed. "Shit, Phil, I hope you don't talk like that around the files."

"Only the special ones."

There was another burst of laughter and Phil wondered whether the sound could be bottled to be experienced again, maybe as an antidote for the kind of days where tiny mutant squids invading SHIELD's parking level became normal.

"How about you swing by when you're finished tonight and pick her up?" Clint said casually. "It's Friday, they can't be expecting you to pull an all-nighter or anything. Can they?"

"It's not unknown," Phil said cautiously.

"But it's unlikely, right?" Clint said.

"At the moment it seems unlikely."

"Cool. Then I'll - we'll be waiting for you later."

Sitwell nudged the door open so he could raise an eyebrow and point urgently at his watch.

"I have to go," Phil said quickly. "I'll be by before six to pick up the car."

"Before six, that's perfect."

The line went dead before Phil could ask exactly why that was perfect.

***

It was just after six when Phil arrived at the shop and he was relieved to see the lights still on as he approached. There was no such thing as a quiet day at SHIELD and this day had been as busy as ever, to the point where he'd nearly called to tell Clint he'd have to pick up the car on Monday. He'd actually been in the process of tapping the passcode into his cell phone when Sitwell ducked his head round Phil's door and offered his help. Phil had only hesitated a moment before nodding and passing half the files over for Sitwell to review.

The shop was quiet when Phil entered; no radio quietly playing in the corner, nobody humming along to it, no quiet clatter of tools. He'd seen his car in the yard outside but Clint hadn't left the invoice or keys out and the blinds were down over the window to Clint's office.

"Hello?" Phil called. "Is anyone here?"

"One minute!" came Clint's voice.

He seemed to be in his office but the door was closed and Phil felt awkward about intruding when he'd obviously shut himself in for a reason.

Phil didn't have to wait long. He was still trying to decide whether to risk his suit and lean against a workbench when the door to the office opened and Clint emerged.

For a long moment, Phil just stared. This wasn't the Clint he was used to, dressed in oil-stained coveralls and tight t-shirts with smears of black grease everywhere. Clint's hair was damp and his skin had been scrubbed clean. He was wearing dark jeans, a grey button down, and a leather jacket that looked soft and worn.

The combination was devastating and Phil could only stand and blink until Clint stopped a few feet away, looking oddly uncertain. Possibly even a little nervous, although maybe that was Phil projecting his own feelings.

"Uh, hi," Clint said. "You're here for your car?"

Phil nodded, still feeling dazed. "Yes. Are you going somewhere nice?"

"That depends." Clint took a careful breath and straightened his shoulders. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"I have a few files I was thinking about reviewing, but it's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

The smile that slowly spread across Clint's face was breath taking. "Good. Great, even."

"Why?"

Phil thought he knew why Clint was asking, he was hoping he was right about what was happening, but then again Clint might just be a very friendly mechanic who wanted to make sure his client wasn't going to need him before he went out for a night with friends. 

Or _a_ friend, Phil added to himself, because the odds of a man like Clint _not_ having a special friend or two seemed fairly low.

Then he told himself firmly to stop second guessing everything and just listen.

"See, I was thinking," Clint said slowly. "I was thinking...maybe you should take me on a date so you don't have to find more excuses to bring your car in. Not that I don't like seeing you and checking on our girl, but dating me would be a lot cheaper than paying me to find squeaks and rattles in your car every couple of weeks."

Phil blinked and tried not to smile. "You think I've been inventing excuses to bring the car in?"

"A squeaking clutch? Seriously?" Clint chuckled. "OK, you couldn't make up some of the things you've brought her in for, but I call bullshit on today."

"Maybe it wasn't really that urgent," Phil allowed.

"But you wanted to see me so you brought her in anyway," Clint said triumphantly. "I knew it."

Phil narrowed his eyes. "I'm already starting to rethink taking you on a date."

"So that's a yes to a date with me?"

Clint's expression was filled with so much hope and eagerness that Phil couldn't suppress his smile anymore. He suspected it was the kind of goofy, happy smile that Sitwell would laugh at but he didn't care anymore because Clint was asking him out on a _date_. It felt ridiculously teenager-ish and at the same time thoroughly wonderful.

"It's a yes to a date," he confirmed and watched as Clint's eyes lit up.

"I had this whole speech worked out with all these good reasons for why you should say yes," Clint said, taking a couple of steps closer to him. "Just in case you weren't sure and needed some persuasion. I know dating when you're a...filing clerk...can get difficult so I even had an entire section about how I'd wait until you did whatever crazy-ass background search you needed to do because I think you'll be worth the wait."

"You had a speech prepared?"

"In my head."

"I might still need some persuasion," Phil said. "It would be a shame to waste your speech, as you went to the trouble of preparing one.

"Too late, you already said yes." Clint grinned. "But if you buy me dinner, I might outline some of the key points."

"Do you like Thai food?" Phil asked.

"Love it."

"There's a good place a couple of blocks away, if that sounds suitable."

"It sounds perfect."

Phil hadn't been aware that Clint was slowly moving nearer until he suddenly realised that Clint was close enough now to touch, to put out a hand and feel the softness of the leather jacket at his wrist. His fingers itched to do it but he resisted the temptation and Clint didn't reach out either.

"I should probably tell you that I filled out the necessary forms for this a while ago," Phil said quietly. "Just in case. My superiors are probably digging out your records right now."

Clint shrugged. "There's nothing there that I haven't told you about already. Solemnly swear, I'm not a terrorist trying to steal your secret filing system."

"You know I'm not really a filing clerk," Phil said.

"No shit, I really hadn't worked it out," Clint said dryly.

"I just thought you should know," Phil said. "In case anything strange happens around me or I get called away suddenly."

"Phil," Clint said seriously. "I'm going to kiss you now, if that's OK. You're some kind of secret agent who deals with weird shit every day and that's fine. That's great. I get it, honestly I do. But right now, I'd really like to kiss you and it's all I'm going to be thinking about until we do it. So. We should kiss now."

"Get it over with?" Phil asked dryly.

Or at least, he tried to sound dry and unconcerned but his eyes had been drawn to Clint's lips the moment Clint mentioned kissing and all he could think about was tasting them. Tasting him. Finally.

"Something like that," Clint said softly as he closed the distance between them.

The first kiss wasn't great. It was dry and awkward and Phil tilted his head at just the wrong angle so his nose collided with Clint's. After the weeks of flirting and build-up it was a bit anticlimactic. Phil couldn't decide where to put his hands and apparently neither could Clint so he suspected they were both standing with their arms carefully held out and their necks jutting uncomfortably, pressing their lips together with the finesse of an average five year-old.

Clint pulled back a little and his eyes were dancing with suppressed laughter. 

"Maybe it works better if we try this," he said softly.

Then he lifted both hands to cup Phil's jaw and this time the kiss was everything the first kiss hadn't been. Clint's lips were soft and warm and they parted when Phil licked at them tentatively. Warm air gusted across Phil's cheek when Clint sighed. His hands drifted to Clint's hips without conscious direction and Phil let them rest there lightly for a moment before tightening his grip and pulling Clint closer.

The rumbled growl of approval that move received chased way the last of Phil's doubts and he smiled against Clint's lips before kissing him thoroughly.

***

Two months later, Phil drove under the Hawkeye Auto sign and parked the car just inside the shop doors. The engine gave a last rattling wheeze as he turned it off and he winced.

Thankfully Clint was too busy glowering down into a car's engine bay to pay much attention to a new arrival. It was early afternoon on a hot summer day so Clint had pulled the top half of his coveralls down around his waist and exchanged his usual t-shirt for a thin white singlet. He was sweaty and streaked with grease and he was possibly the best thing Phil had seen all day. Just being able to watch him for a moment helped Phil to feel a little calmer after his morning from hell.

Clint looked up when Phil got out of the car. A wide smile immediately wiped away the frustration on Clint's face and the eager way he loped over to Phil made something warm and happy swell in Phil's chest.

"Hi," Clint said cheerfully. "I didn't think I'd see you again until tonight. What's the special occasion?"

Phil had seen Clint that morning, had kissed him awake and almost made both of them late for work, but he still wanted to kiss Clint again. There weren't enough hours in the day sometimes for all the things he wanted to do with Clint.

He was also painfully aware that Clint was going to give him a disapproving look the moment Clint noticed the damage to the car and Phil was learning that it was easier to get that part over with fast rather than waiting. So Phil stepped back from the car and waited.

Clint's eyes narrowed as he walked a careful circuit of the vehicle.

"Phil, is that a sword hilt?" he asked, pointing.

"It does look like one," Phil agreed.

There was a trail of fluid leading away from the car and Clint crouched to touch and smell it. Then he stalked back and popped the hood, staring down at the engine for a long moment before he looked up at Phil again with an incredulous expression.

"How did you do this much damage in one morning?" he asked.

"It was an unusually complex filing system," Phil said lightly, "and they were resisting proper alphabetisation."

"With swords and whatever the shit is that your engine is coated with?"

"I'm assured it's non-toxic."

"To humans, maybe," Clint muttered. "I thought your boss had signed off on you using a company car when you're filing?"

Phil sighed. "He heard I was dating a mechanic."

Clint snorted and abandoned the engine, moving to stand in front of Phil again. They weren't touching but they were close enough for Phil to feel the heat from Clint's body and his eyes were drawn to a bead of moisture rolling down Clint's cheek.

"He thinks I'll give you a blowjob discount for this mess, doesn't he?" Clint asked with a smirk.

"He may be under that impression," Phil admitted ruefully. "I told him there wasn't one but he doesn't seem to believe me."

"If you do that thing with your tongue then I can probably stretch to a free oil change sometimes." Clint glanced behind Phil at the car and raised his eyebrows. "I'm charging full whack for this, though."

"You should definitely do that," Phil said with a smile.

He rested his hands on Clint's hips and tugged him a little closer.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Clint asked. "I'm a mess and your suit-"

"Is going to need dry-cleaning or burning anyway," Phil said firmly. "It was a very difficult filing job."

"Really?" Clint drawled. "Just how difficult?"

Phil leaned in to kiss him, tasting salt and coffee on Clint's lips. He didn't give a damn about the sweat and grease that were probably adding to his suit's ruination because Clint sighed into the kiss, wrapped his arms around Phil and pressed him up against the car. It felt wonderful and Phil marvelled that someone as funny, beautiful and amazing as Clint had apparently fallen for him. He sometimes had to pinch himself to convince himself he wasn't dreaming, that this was all real.

Clint pulled back a little and asked, "That difficult? Really?"

"Sword in the side of my car," Phil reminded him, sliding his hands round to get a firm handful of Clint's ass. "It was very stressful."

"That's a not very subtle hint, isn't it?" Clint asked.

"Yes."

"Want to play hooky?" Clint said with a soft, hopeful smile.

Phil pressed a kiss to the corner of Clint's mouth. "I've been given the weekend off and instructions not to think about work until Monday."

Clint grinned. "That kind of takes the fun out of playing hooky, but I can work with it. You're going to make me watch some crappy reality TV marathon, aren't you?"

"Only if you make me watch Dog Cops," Phil said.

"It's a good thing I love you," Clint solemnly. "I don't watch Toddlers and Tiaras for just anyone."

"And I don't let just anyone repair my car."

There was probably a silly, goofy grin on Phil's face and the doors to the shop were wide open where anyone could walk in to see them, but none of that mattered. Clint loved him despite the frequent car trashing and his strange job so life was good.


End file.
